


Day's End

by Medie



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-29
Updated: 2010-04-29
Packaged: 2017-10-09 05:41:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They all miss the part where he's been in love with his best friend from go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day's End

**Author's Note:**

> written for [](http://boosette.livejournal.com/profile)[**boosette**](http://boosette.livejournal.com/) for the [Five Acts Meme](http://toestastegood.livejournal.com/508068.html#cutid1) I chose to write girl!McCoy/Jim - Oral Sex

Jim knows how it looks. It might be the twenty-third century, but some things never die. Since gossip was invented about three seconds after homosapiens mastered grunting and pointing, it's not going anywhere. People talk and, even in a Starfleet dormitory, a man rooming with a beautiful woman means they talk _a lot_.

They talk a lot and, lately, they've been talking about him and Bones. The weird part is, the stories are almost tame. Half-hearted. He's not even sure anyone actually thinks they're sleeping together anymore. Not like the rampaging speculation they used to generate. Now, they're a stand in for those doldrum days where Commander Spock and Lieutenant Uhura don't share a half-look or Hikaru Sulu isn't sending half their class into swooning fits with his shirt-optional morning jogs.

The truly ironic part is that they don't even bother trying to hide it anymore and haven't been for a while. In the beginning, sure. He hadn't wanted to share her, she hadn't wanted the attention, and neither one of them had gotten what they wanted. He shares her with Starfleet Medical and the cadets who have all-but-adopted her, and she's had to deal with the never-ending gossip.

They're mostly past that now. Neither of them care about hiding, and no one actually would believe them if they did tell the truth. The gossip, though, well that's still a pain in the ass.

Jim huffs a breath and looks at the door. Glancing back at the chrono, then at the door again, and its sliding open.

He can set his watch by her. She's always two and a half hours late getting home. Always.

Five seconds in the door and her uniform hits the floor. It sounds hotter than it is, with the fact she wore her scrubs home. Scrubs that are, point of fact, still stained with the unnatural blue of Andorian blood. A second later and she's pulling those off too.

Down to her underwear, black and worn shiny with use, Bones flicks fingers in what's supposed to be a wave and then sinks onto her bed. It's neat as a pin, hospital corners and all, until she pulls the pillow free and hauls it closer to wrap herself around.

"That bad, huh?" he says, pulling off his glasses. It's an understatement, he knows that, but there's not much else he can say. Well, not much else that, in that moment, she'd be capable of answering. Nothing outside of that Andorian's current condition anyway.

Her answer is a noncommittal grunt. Her eyes are already half-closed, not sleepy, but not awake either.

Yeah, that bad. She's too damn tired to move. He's been a witness to more of these days-end than he can count. Command track might be, supposedly, where it was at, but Medical was the one that really put you through the goddamn ringer.

Bones is already a doctor which puts her ahead of the rest of the first years in training. It should be a break, make things easier, but this is Starfleet. Her xenobiology and xenopharmacology alone would keep him up nights. Jim knows through Pike the kind of excitement Bones is generating in the Medical heirarchy, knows the kind of expectations they're hanging on her, and hates them for it. She knows too and, by outdoing them every time, she just keeps raising the goddamn bar.

It's wearing her out. Jim put his book aside, watching her with a frown.

The sex maniac and the grouchy alcoholic who spend nights fighting and fucking, are so-married, and set to take the galaxy by storm if space syphilis and cirrhosis didn't get them first. All the talk and none of them get it right.

They all miss the part where he's been in love with his best friend from go.

Still curled around her pillow, the expanse of her back presented to him, she fumbles with her hair. It was a chignon when she left, now it's a fucking mess. Her arm falls back to the bed and she grumbles something that's probably expletive-laden and, to his ears, cute as hell.

Yeah, Bones and her potty mouth are _cute_. Jim long ago accepted that, where Bones is concerned, the baseline parameters are permanently skewed. A lot of things are cute where she's concerned.

"Hey, let me," Jim says, getting up. He grabs her brush as he goes. Fixing the mess takes a while, fingers working the worst of it before letting the brush take care of the rest. It's not the first time that he's done this either. Sometimes, he thinks that half the reason Bones wears her hair like she does is so he can do this.

When he puts the brush aside, she's boneless in her relaxation, head turned away from him. He can't help leaning over to press a kiss between her shoulder blades.

She hums and he can hear the protest forming.

"Don't worry, Bones," he says, hooking fingers into her underwear. "I promise to do all the work."

She laughs and lets him turn her over. "Promise?" she rasps, her accent almost invisible on the word, but her voice doesn't need the help. He hardens underneath the heavy-lidded gaze and husky voice.

"Cross my heart." Jim settles between her legs, thumbing her open to his perusal, giving her a chance to relax again before he puts tongue to skin.

She's hot beneath his mouth. Hot, wet, and everything he could lose himself in. The idea isn't a new one and he's comfortable with it, like a familiar pair of jeans, but not complacent.

Never that, never with her, and he doesn't lift his head until she comes. Her hips jerk, once and then twice. She presses against him for a long moment that's punctuated by the sigh of his name and then she relaxes.

Her eyes are closed, breathing evening out in record time, and he knows she's lagging.

She makes a noise, hand fumbling for him, and Jim doesn't refuse her. He's hard, aching, and he knows he should make for the bathroom and take care of it, but wrapping himself around her sounds like a better option. Always will be with them.

"Ditch the pants." It's supposed to be an order, but it's half-finished and half-mumbled, so not a whole lot of command behind it.

He follows it anyway. When he lies down beside her, fitting himself into the empty spaces, she wraps herself around him. One leg slips between his and her lips find his neck. It's lazy, sleepy, but it's her. It's enough.

With her, it always will be. He just knows that, with Bones, 'enough' never quite cuts it.

"--later," she mumbles.

"Yeah," he agrees, closing his eyes. "Your turn later."


End file.
